Musings of the Non-Amusing Variety

My New Favorite Song

swsnider:

We’ve recently begun singing a new song at church that I absolutely adore:

Micah 7

What misery is mine?
The fruit that I desire
Does not remain.
The upright man is gone
And those that love your name
Cannot be found.
But I will wait for God
And His forgiveness will
Hear my cry.

Chorus:
Who is like God,
Who pardons sin?
Who is like God
Who won’t forget
The oath of grace
He made long ago?

I’ve sinned and I should bear
The indignation of
The Lord my God.
But Christ has plead my cause,
And He will satisfy
The debt I owe.
He’ll bring me to the light
And then I shall be free
To bless His name.

Chorus.

My Senses Are Home

I can smell the chocolate chip cookies I just made. They’re sitting on the stove on a plate we received as a wedding gift.  If cookies could smile I’m pretty sure these would be smiling at me. They’re soft and messy and only ever so slightly salty. I think I got my teaspoons mixed up.

I can see the piles of folded laundry all around me.The little piles are mine and the bigger ones belong to Silas. His clothes take up alot more room than mine. I need to carry them upstairs, but it’s kind of re-assuring to have them towering around me down here. It reminds me of when I was little, back when my Mom still did my laundry. I wonder when was the last time my Mom did my laundry.

I can taste the warm tea I’m drinking. Raspberry Zinger herbal tea. Some mornings I crave caffeine so I drink black tea or coffee. But this morning everything is so nice I just want something warm and happy tasting. I think I’m tasting happiness.

I can hear Relient K. I like to listen to them in the morning. “I was thinkin’, over thinkin’, cause there’s just too many scenarios to analyze. Look in my eyes cause you’re my dream. Please come true.” Maybe it’s because the morning is my favorite time to quietly ponder my life and the lives of those around me. Maybe it’s because I want to believe that ordinary things are dreams come true. Maybe it’s because ordinary things ARE a dream come true to me.

I can feel the crispness, the dryness, the coldness of Autumn. But it’s comforting because under all of that Autumn is a warm season, despite the cold. Pumpkins and cider and hayrides and the color goldenrod. Autumn feels cozy, toasty, and I’m making cinnamon rolls this afternoon.

My senses are so deeply satisfied to be alive and to be home.

A Nobel Question

According to Alfred Nobel’s will, the Nobel Peace Prize is to go to whoever “shall have done the most or the best work for fraternity between nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses”.

The announcement made by the Norwegian Nobel Committee states that “Only very rarely has a person to the same extent as Obama captured the world’s attention and given its people hope for a better future.”

I don’t happen to be particularly opposed to Obama, nor am I one of his fans - I really do think I could say that I’m pretty much indifferent to the man. But I’m confused as to how giving the world “hope”, as opposed to actually doing something of substance meets the requirements for a Nobel Peace prize.

How is being popular or more specifically, not being George Bush, make one worthy of such an award?

Echo (echoechoecho)

Their voices increase in volume and crescendo into laughter, echoing up the staircase.

Upstairs, the sun floods the hall, warming everything it touches with a crisp and loving caress. Even me.

Does the sun love me? That would be nice.

It echos again. Gumballs are being expelled into a metal dish. The library is an inappropriate place for gumballs, I think.

And I hope the sun loves me.

Where is the Russian literature and where the smutty poetry? To the back and to the right, then the left and back again

It’s toasty, I’m toasty, but my toes are cold.

And they and I, and also them, will eat gumballs and read the words of Whitman, which are so much more valuable than mine.

My left ear is going to be sun burnt.